


A Half Remembered Dream

by lolahardy



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012), Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolahardy/pseuds/lolahardy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Blake wakes up with no memory and finds out that Bane is after him. But Bane is not Bane and not all is what appears to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing

The first thing that came to his immediate attention was the pain.

It raced across the back of his head, down the nape of his neck and exploded every time he blinked. He hissed as he began picking himself up from the filthy alleyway he found himself in.

He didn't remember how he got there and he didn't remember what had happened. All he knew was that the ground was wet, the front of his pants down to his knees and shirt were soaked in patches and his head was killing him. 

He began pulling himself up on his feet, his knees shaking as he reached out to steady himself, feeling bricks under his palm and fingers from the wall beside him and the first wave of nausea hit him. He groaned to himself and he resisted closing his eyes because every time he did, he felt he would black out. He turned and pressed his back to the brick wall and took deep, steady breaths, trying to will the pain away. He reached up to the back of his head and was relieved he didn't come away with blood.

Once he was sure he could, he pushed himself off the wall and took a few shakey steps and walked to the end of the alley, towards the sidewalk. He didn't know where he was, what had happened...all he knew was that it was dark outside, it was snowing, which would explain the wetness on the ground and now on his pants and shirt. 

As he stepped out onto the sidewalk, he pat himself down, relieved he was wearing a coat, thick and lined with fur around the collar. He tried to think, despite the ache in his head and he realized he didn't know his name. Panic washed over him as he thought the blow probably caused the lapse in memory and he immediately reached to his pockets in his pants, then inside his coat where he found a wallet. He pulled it out only to find a badge instead and he flipped it open, seeing the bright round badge, the dark background that brought the shape of the buildings forward and underneath, the letters GCPD followed by an indentifcation number.

GCPD...it rang no bells and he stared at it, wishing it would tell him more. After a further search of his pockets, he pieced together he was a police officer named John Blake. The mostly empty wallet with his driver's license, a set of handcuffs, mace and a side arm told him that much. But he still had no idea where he was at the moment. Following the address on the license and walking in circles for what felt like hours, he managed to get to his apartment. After patting down his pockets again, he found the keys and took additional minutes testing each key until he was granted access inside.

He changed his clothes after a hot shower and then sat in the living room where nothing looked familiar. He felt as if he was in a stranger's home and the panic he managed to keep at bay was coming back to him. He had thoughts of going to the hospital...head injuries couldn't be good anyway. But he was tired and he had walked for so long that in the end, he curled up on the couch and fell asleep with small hopes he would wake up with a memory.

He had no such luck. When he woke up after what felt like a second of closing his eyes, he realized he still didn't know who he was or where he was or what had happened to him. He rubbed his face and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and take care of morning functions and when he was done, his cell phone rang. He had found it in his pockets among his other items and scrolling through the address book had given him no clues either. Just names that sounded foreign and unfamiliar. 

He answered the phone when he saw the name blinking on the screen, "Jim" and he brought it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Blake? What happened to you last night?"

"I don't know."

Whoever Jim was, could sense something was wrong. The voice on the other end sounded older, more weathered and deeper and he wondered if maybe Jim was some kind of fellow cop. He had thought briefly "father" but then why would he be so formally titled in his cell phone? He shook off the train of thought as he heard Jim say,

"I'll be right over."

It was half an hour later and a cup of coffee that Jim was there. He didn't look familiar and John was getting tired of having that hope every time a new clue popped up. When he told Jim he had no idea who he was, Jim sighed.

"That is a problem. Have you gone to the hospital?"

"It took me hours to find my apartment. I was exhausted."

"We should still go, have you checked, make sure it was nothing serious."

John didn't want to argue, he was still tired.

Jim took him to the hospital and the whole ride there, John looked out the window, still hoping for some kind of familiarity but nothing popped. He was checked by a doctor, told his memory would eventually return and given something for the pain that still lingered.

As Jim took him back home, he glanced at him and said,

"You should rest. Take the time to recover."

John said nothing. He thought he should especially if he was a police officer but he couldn't even bring up an arguement that would benefit him. He was a cop that didn't even know who he was, let alone what case he was working on, if he was working on anything.

"Ok."

Jim nodded, satisfied with his answer. 

John was back home, his memory still absent and he took the chance to rummage through his apartment. He was a cop, he knew that much and he clung to the idea like a life line. He was sure he would find something, anything about himself, that would tell him who he was but all he could find were things related to work. He found pictures of his graduation ceramony from the academy, shaking hands with Jim and that explained their relationship. He found articles of himself titled "hero cop saves..." and so on.

As he looked through everything, he wondered why there were no photos of his parents, of a lover, even a former one. It seemed as if he was married to his job, sleeping with his job, in love with his job. He found no evidence contrasting the thought. 

He got frustrated that despite the photos, the articles, nothing came to mind. Nothing was familiar, nothing sparked interest and it was becoming infuriating.

Eventually, he gave up and decided to sit and have a cup of tea as he turned on the TV for the news. He hadn't given anything else more thought, the remains of his headache were still lingering on and he gave up for the night when the newscaster began speaking of Gotham. He watched as he drank, the act still not feeling familiar and the cup he used felt...right. It had been the first thing that ever felt correct that he couldn't help but hold onto the cup. The reporter went on to talk about the dire conditions of the city and how their latest problem, Bane, was wrecking havoc. John set the cup down and listened though it was vague in details and even less informative then he thought it would be. It was as if they knew just as much as the public, the police not at all sharing anything the might know about this Bane character. 

It was two days later, John knew by the date on his cell phone and each time he laid to sleep, it felt like minutes, though he didn't really feel tired. He took a cab to the precinct and he walked through in civilian clothing, convinced someone would stop him, but instead, he had a few hello's and good morning's before he found Jim...or rather Commissioner Gordon. He knocked on his door and once permission was granted, he went inside and Jim was surprised to see him.

"John...I didn't expect to see you."

"i couldn't stay home anymore."

Home...the word felt foreign in his mouth.

"I see."

"Am I working on the Bane case?"

Jim sat up slightly, alarmed.

"Do you remember something?"

"No. I saw something on the news and it made me wonder."

Jim sighed and got up from his desk and offered John a seat. He sat on the corner and looked at him for a moment, pushing up his glasses as he looked away.

"Bane...Bane is trouble for Gotham. The Batman is chasing him but Bane seems to be dozens of steps ahead of him. We don't know what Bane is planning...but we know Bane is after you."

Even though the statement made alarms ring in his mind, confusion ran rampant. The Batman? Why him? Why did Bane see him as a threat? He immediately began linking that to his injury from previous days.

"Me? Why? I don't know anything, literally."

"I know that John, but Bane doesn't and whatever he wants with you...he won't stop."

"Why didn't you tell me? I've had my defenses down for two days now!"

"I thought it best you didn't know yet...I was almost hoping we could resolve this without you."

John felt angry and now the past few hanging over his head, he felt grateful he had not dared to venture out.

"Well...now what?"

He ground the words out as Jim sighed and removed his glasses and wiped them off on his shirt.

"You still have amnesia. If you don't feel safe at home, maybe it would be best if you got a room somewhere. But until your memories comes back, you're of no use to us son."

He put his glasses back on seeing John's young, angry face.

"I'm sorry."

John got up and left without another word. 

The thought of walking home planted fear inside him that made him angry as well as scared. He was sure that he would have never been afraid to walk in the dark, alone before this. He was so certain of it and the fact that he was so certain, made him believe it. But now, the darkness of the city sprawled out before him shook him to the core, knowing there was some monster out there waiting for him and this Batman...whoever that was, was supposedly on his tail but it brought no comfort to John. He stood in front of the station until he was able to hail a cab, furious with himself that he wouldn't even go down the block to catch a ride. When a yellow cab stopped, he stepped in and he still had to dig out his wallet to get his license out to give out the address. 

As he sat in the back seat, furious with himself, he glared out the window as he thought about what Jim told him. Bane did not at all sound familiar, there was no image of him, nothing came to mind but the spelling of his name. He ran his mind in circles trying to think of what conflict they had, why Bane was after him, why no one could stop him and he wanted to beat his head in when nothing but whiteness came to mind. 

He was gritting his teeth from frustration when the cab came to a screeching and sudden stop, John unprepared for it as he slammed into the divider with his shoulder. He cursed, grateful he didn't hit his head but nonetheless angry as he began picking himself up when he felt the cold burst of wind filling the car. The first place he looked was at the driver's seat, seeing it empty and the door opened. He swallowed hard as he felt fear creeping through his stomach as he turned and looked straight ahead where a large and brooding masked man stood in front of the car, the headlights casting light right on him, armed men at his side as he began to walk towards him, his hands up, his fingers tucked and wrapped on the straps of the armor he was wearing underneath. John resisted the urge to hide and tuck himself down lower but as the man approached, John looked at him, his eyes so expressive, focused and he heard himself say his name.

"Eames..."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Blake wakes up with no memory and finds out that Bane is after him. But Bane is not Bane and not all is what appears to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing

Part 2.

John didn't know why he called him Eames. He wasn't sure why that name weighed so heavily on his tongue, why it rang with so much familiarity, but it did. The masked man stood in front of the cab and suddenly one of the armed men came around to the side of the cab and John watched calmly as he opened the door and pointed his machine gun at him and commanded him out of the cab. John did, slowly sliding along side the seat watching as the armed man still kept his gun trained on him until John was out, his hands instinctively going up to show defenselessness. The gunman turned him to turn around so John did and he felt the gun to his back as he was pat down. 

He wasn't sure if he should be grateful he left his side arm at home. 

Once he was done, the gunman's gun was away from his back and the masked man approached him.

"Officer Blake..."

He heard his name rasped out through the mask and the voice was mangled through the same mechanics of the metal over his mouth. He dared to turn and face the man, seeing his sheer size now that he was closer, the mask reminding him of an animal's mouth with teeth bared. He said nothing in return and it was then it dawned on him. This was Bane...

...and the memory of the name that sounded so familiar begin to fade. 

He looked down, feeling defeated, tired...he had no more fight left in him. 

Bane looked at him, his eyes taking in everything about the officer that seem to wilt before him. It was not what he expected. He looked at his armed man and gestured him to take him as the man then took John by the top of his arm and walked, giving a slight tug, nearly surprised when the other man went willingly.

 

John was tired and he felt it for the first time as he was brought into Bane's lair. He hadn't even paid attention when he was brought there and he scoffed at himself when he realized it...what kind of cop was he? No wonder Jim was so willing to keep him in the dark. He was given a single, barren room with a tiny, worn looking cot that looked as if it would collapse under his weight. When the door closed behind him, John went to it and eased himself down, hearing the metal frame groan and creak under him. As he settled his hand on the blankets, he was surprised to find them soft and inviting. The colors of a warm reds, oranges and browns made him think of autumn, the pattern of leafs and spots of white made it feel familiar with it. Maybe it had been stolen from his apartment, but he couldn't be sure. At any rate, it certainly didn't fit with the rest of the room's decor...or lack there of. He didn't think of it anymore as he pulled it back and toed off his shoes as he got on the cot and laid down, the blanket feeling so warm and comfortable, he didn't even remember falling asleep.

When he woke again, he heard shuffling of some kind, a soft, metallic breathing. He knew Bane was there and he sat up almost instinctively, going for a weapon but under his pillow, not at his side which he thought odd for a moment.

"A little late to have our guard up isn't it, detective?"

John didn't know how to respond. He rubbed his eyes, feeling more refreshed though it only felt like he closed his eyes a moment ago but clearly he had not. His sleep had been long and deep enough for Bane to come into his room with a folding chair and play a game of cards while he waited. Bane wore dark cargo pants and heavy looking boots and a fitted black long sleeved shirt. His coat was gone, as was the armor from earlier, though the mask remained. He focused on his cards as if John was not there, placing them in neat rows on a tiny table next to John's cot. The officer turned and swung his legs over, the cot again groaning loudly as he settled his socked feet on the floor. He licked his lips as he looked at the brooding beast before him.

"What should I address you as?"

When Bane looked up, he almost looked insulted, the anger evident in his eyes. But John didn't back down from it, instead seeing the blue-gray shades with flecks of green and his chest constricted a little. 

Eames...his mind echoed. 

"You're usually not so ignorant. But this is a new game you're playing."

"I don't...remember anything."

It got Bane's attention as he set his remaining cards down and leaned back, the folding chair creaking as the weight shifted.

"I see."

John looked down at his hands and he sighed, feeling helpless and frustrated again.

"What do you want with me?"

Bane said nothing to him and it made John swallow a little knot of fear that collected in his throat.

The masked man got up, leaving the cards in place as he left the room.

 

John lost track of how long he had been in the small room. He passed time by playing with the cards Bane had left behind and sleeping. He ate...but he hardly realized when he did. He would see a tray of food and then it would be empty and John never felt hunger pains so he assumed he ate. When he slept, he felt refreshed when he woke but never remembered falling asleep. He had not seen Bane either...and that bothered him too. He wondered if Jim or any of the Gotham City PD was out there looking for him. He longed for a window to at least people watch. 

After at least a few days, one of the gunman came for him, telling him to move. John got up from the folding chair and went out the door, the gunman behind him and leading him somewhere, upstairs, down halls and turns and he made notice that they were in some kind abandoned government building. The gunman took him to another room that looked more like a hotel room minus a bed and nudged John in. He left without another word and John looked around, seeing the large window, which was what he ran to first. He glanced out seeing a heavy snowfall had blanketed the city and they were high up, the streets looking so far down and he could see rooftops and the city bridge in the distance. It was bright outside and he figured the time to be around mid afternoon and he pressed his fingers to the window pane to feel the cold on the other side. When he finally looked away, he saw the couch and the walls were lined with shelves and books and he took one and sat down to read. 

Though the book title was known to him, after reading a couple of pages, he looked up and realized he remembered nothing. He closed the book and set it aside as the door opened and John looked up to see Bane coming in. He was back in his coat and armor and the skin under his eyes where red with cold, his fingers also pink at the tips, his eyes no different then before. Bane sat beside him and John could smell the outside on him still and despite being trapped at the whim of a madman, he still felt no need to resist, no need to run and he had no longing to be out there.

"You do not remember anything?"

John shook his head, each word grated through metal, though it did not sound offensive to his ears.

"I woke up alone and dizzy in an alley...I took a blow to the head...of that much I'm sure of. I had it checked by the hospital...but they didn't tell me anything I didn't figure out on my own."

Bane then nodded and left.

 

John slept and lived and was still just as unsure of everything since he woke up in that alley. He hated the feeling of not knowing, he hated being just as frustrated with no means to jog his memory or to even have anything to help him. The only thing he didn't hate was being captured...

...and if that wasn't the biggest thing fucking with his head.

Things began taking a turn for the strange when he slept and in the middle of the night, he woke up suddenly, something that had not happened since this whole thing started. He woke up with a start and the first thing he saw were those striking, familiar eyes.

"Eames..."

The rasping sound of breathing through metal hit him first, then the heavy, powerful hand at his throat. He was pinned to the bed as he gasped for air, his natural instincts to preserve himself kicked in as he reached up to the forearm, his legs kicking in the air, panic rushing through him as he focused to see Bane. It was another moment before he realized he wasn't being strangled, just pinned down and he relaxed, though his breathing was still frantic.

"What did you call me?"

"I'm sorry...I thought you were someone else. You startled me."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who did you think I was?"

"I'm not sure."

Bane's hand pulled slowly, John's hands sliding down, their fingers brushing past each others. He wanted to ask why Bane cared who John was calling to, why he was watching him sleep but he had already been frightened enough. He laid still as Bane got up to leave him alone again.

 

He thought nothing more on the matter as he slept for the rest of the morning when he was suddenly shaken awake and he turned to see the gunman waking him up. He yawned and sat up as he was suddenly told,

"Get up. Bane wants to see you."

John was surprised, it had only been hours before he made his mistake with Bane and he figured he would not see him for a while. But he questioned nothing as he got his shoes on and got up and went out the door, the gunman taking him somewhere, leading him in a different direction until he got to the top of the staircase and the gunman motioned him to open the door. As he did, a burst of cold hit him in the face and he shivered and was blinded instantly. He struggled to focus, his arms coming around him as he took a few steps out to the fresh winter snow on the roof. More had fallen since the previous day and it was so much colder outside now that they were up so high on the building roof top. He walked forward, hearing the door close behind him as he saw Bane standing close to the edge, his back facing him.

"Bane?"

The larger man turned to him and motioned John to join him. Obviously he hesistaed and Bane sensed that.

"If I was going to kill you detective, I would have done so already."

John knew he was right so he joined him and looked across the city that at this time, as the sun broke through the tips of buildings and Wayne Enterprise stood highest of all, the sun passing it last, Gotham looked peaceful...beautiful.

He shivered and swallowed hard before looking at Bane.

"What do you want from me?"

Bane said nothing, the metallic grating of his breathing was low and soft and John could hear it as if it was right beside his ear.

"Nothing at all detective. Not anymore."

John was afraid of what that meant. Did that spell his death, his end, his freedom? 

"Does that mean I'm free to go?"

Bane turned his head, looking at him and nodded. He then left, his boot prints in the snow indicting his passage to and from the roof ledge. 

John should have been excited, relieved...instead he felt nothing.

 

He had passage all the way to the door. From the staircase, down the halls, down the elevator to the doors leading outside. The only thing John left with were the clothes he wore, his coat, his shoes and the out of place blanket from the room he had been kept in. He thought someone would stop him, but no one did. 

Before he knew it, he was wandering back through a city he did not remember, to an apartment that was even less familiar. He hung onto the blanket like a life time, his fingers trailing over the edges finding one or two loose threads. When he got back to his apartment, he showered and changed his clothes, taking the blanket and swaddling himself in it before he tucked himself into the corner of his couch. It took only a few minutes before he fell asleep.

 

Warmth touched his face. Like the sun from a window, comforting, familiar. He turned his head slightly, not being able to turn completely and when he looked down, he could see the blanket, the warm familiar patterns of autumn as he sighed and knew he was home. He could feel something behind him, heavy and hot. He wanted to say something but he couldn't. The whole thing felt like a dream and he was afraid to move from it but he smiled and smelled a scent he had known forever...and god he missed it.

Eames.

This was Eames, his Eames comforting and warm and always asleep behind him as close as possible, his arm heavy over his side and this was their blanket. 

The shock of the memory broke him from his sleep and John realized he wasn't sleeping. His mind was trying to remind him of who he was, of where he was and he gasped as he sat up, his hands trembling. 

Oh god...he was dreaming. He was dreaming and he wasn't John Blake. He sat up from the couch as he ran to the window, peering out and seeing nothing, not a soul, not a car, nothing. He glanced up at the sky and saw the clouds and when he willed it, they cleared and he knew it to be true.

"I'm dreaming...none of this is real."

The memories crashed onto him hard; he was Arthur...he and Eames had gone under and something...went wrong and they were dropped into Limbo. He was in Limbo...and so was Eames.

His knees nearly gave out as he caught himself on the window sill and he shook as everything suddenly made sense. Eames...that's why he thought Bane was Eames....because he was.

"Oh...god Eames..."

He pulled himself out as he ran out of his apartment, racing through the patterns of a city he had dreamnt up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Blake wakes up with no memory and finds out that Bane is after him. But Bane is not Bane and not all is what appears to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing

Part 3.

It was cold and now that John...Arthur...knew what was happening, that this was limbo, he felt as if he was trying to control the dream. His mind felt wiped still and all he knew was that he had to get to Eames right away.  
He walked quickly through the streets, some projections saw him but said nothing, others ignored him. The weather changed rapidly overhead, the dark clouds rolling over, then settling into a soft gray as it began to snow.   
He stopped, clutching his coat, glancing up and feeling the cold, wet flakes landing on his cheeks, catching on his eyelashes and it stirred memories in him he felt had been buried. 

_It snowed hard in Colorado when they arrived after a job. The hotel was expensive, the brandy was warm when it settled in his stomach and Eames...Eames kept him burning throughout the night._  
The job was nearly forgotten when he got off the plane, his mind exhausted, the weather freezing and the cab that took them to their hotel took forever and just frayed his nerves. After a hot shower, a delicious dinner and oh-so tempting words, Arthur forgot nearly everything he had just been annoyed with, just forgot he got off a grueling, long flight from the underside of Kievt and he was sick of snow. He quickly forgot as Eames gave him brandy, rubbed his shoulders and kissed the nape of his neck.   
When he fell asleep in the middle of having his feet rubbed, he was woken up with a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth and Eames tucking him in.   
"Don't leave..."  
It was all he had to say before Eames slipped under the covers with him.  
In the morning, the snow was settled, bright and clean. It was the most beautiful sight he could remember seeing. 

Now, the sky was gray and he was alone and the snow was settling in ugly little clumps on the side of the sidewalk, gradually turning to slush as projections walked through it.   
He had to get to Eames.

The snow had gotten worse as he approached Bane's last headquarters. He was frustrated that as he made his way in, it was abandoned. He kept walking, feeling the cold on his face, the ache in his feet and his hands were so numb, he had to pause to flex his fingers and blow on them before sliding them back in his coat pockets.   
As he glanced up to see how dark the sky had gotten, in the corner of his eye, he saw someone standing on the building roof top. It was one of Bane's armed men and he immediately ran towards the sight. He got in to the lobby of the apartment building, now empty as Bane's men sat in the lobby. Their leader approached and Arthur knew his face from somewhere but he couldn't recall.  
"Officer Blake. What brings you here?"  
"I need to speak with Bane."  
He didn't bother correcting the title and he ignored the snickers and laugh as he stood his ground. Their leader smirked as he held his gun and shook his head.  
"He's done with you. Go home."  
"I have to see him. Please."  
He could hear more snickers, ooo's from amusement as he begged. Their leader shook his head and told him to wait.  
"I'll see...since you asked so nicely."  
So he sat and waited, hearing random chatter and noise and he waited and he waited and when he looked up again, the other men where gone. He wasted no time as he headed up the stairs, following his instinct and stopping as he reached the fifth floor. He thought he might be stopped by the leader but he wasn't. He approached the only door that wasn't open and approached it, taking a moment before turning the knob and letting himself in. He saw Bane sitting on a large armchair by the window and he looked up as Arthur came in.  
"How dare you..."  
"Wait..."  
He was able to stop him with the one word, soft, gliding across the room like a feather. The beast stopped with one word and Arthur stepped in, closing the door behind him. Bane waited, standing by the window though his entire body was tense. He was still in his armor, in his coat and his ever present mask. Arthur approached him as he swallowed hard and felt the anger rolling off him in waves but he was not afraid.   
He could never be afraid of him.  
"I need to tell you something."  
He said nothing, just stood in front of him with tremendous force, his eyes cold and still. Arthur could his hear his breathing, scraping through the metal grates.   
"This is a dream. This isn't real...none of this. You're not Bane..."  
He felt crushing force on his arm and he winced but didn't shutter.  
"You come into my chambers and you dare spout this insanity at me?"  
"It's not insanity. I can prove it to you."  
"Then prove it."  
He shoved him back and Arthur felt his arm throb under his coat. He didn't reach up to touch it, but he looked back at Bane calmly.  
"How do you think I got here?"  
Bane thought for a moment, then passed him, all but tearing the door off the hinges as he looked down the hall. He expected to see his guards, his men, his army. But instead, he saw nothing.  
"They weren't real, just projections. My projections. You are not Bane."  
He turned back to him, stalking towards him, menacing in size and each step was light, but still made the dust that settled in the room scatter. Once again in front of Arthur, he narrowed his eyes.  
"I don't know what you're planning or how you did it, but-"  
"You think I could get rid of an army of armed mercenaries? I'm flattered, but that's not possible."  
"What's your trick detective? Is the bat here?"  
"Eames-"  
"Do not call me that!"  
Arthur gripped the arm of his coat, the soft, leather like material made him wonder where it came from and looked at him.  
"You know why that name angers you...you know why I call you that. You know I'm not John Blake."  
His eyes stormed with rage, with confusion and Arthur sought the man he knew behind them. He waited and heard his exasperated breathing and he hesitated for a moment before slowly bringing his hands up to the sides of the mask. Bane lurched back, turning his head up and away as he growled.  
"Let me..."  
Bane was stiff, his body tense and his breathing was harder as he stilled again, then lowered his head again and Arthur slowly reached up, his fingers brushing over the skin of his cheek right over the thick strap and he sighed to himself, watching Bane's eyes as he lowered them, his breathing hard still. Arthur's fingers searched, his nails finding hidden clasps, the metal digging into the delicate skin as he pulled forward and watched as the strap gave way. He heard Bane panic, his eyes flying open as he reached up to Arthur's wrists, stopping him but Arthur continued, fighting him, moving the mask, hearing him breathing normally and the sound shocked him. He felt as if he had not heard it in years.  
The grasp on his hands relaxed and Arthur finished, pulling it up and off him and he was face to face with the man he loved. There were red marks against his cheeks from where the straps dug into his skin, scruffs of facial hair around his full lips and on his chin.   
"Eames..."  
It was as if Eames was coming back to life in front of him, his eyes brightening as he came to realization that his Arthur was in front of him.  
"Arthur..."  
His voice was husky as if not used, his English accent full and lilting on his words and he knew that what he said was true. It was quiet as Arthur let himself fall against him and God...the relief, knowing they were in a dream and now could leave and Eames was with him...  
"What happened? How did we end up here?"  
Arthur looked at him and he missed the scent of him...this was not him, he wore the skin of Bane and this was not his lover.  
"I don't know. Something must have gone wrong topside."  
"We have to leave."  
Arthur nodded as the sky outside began to rumble and flashes of light began to approach. In the distance were hundreds of police sirens and they both knew their projections were coming after them.  
"They're coming for us."  
Arthur nodded as Eames took his hand and they left the room.   
It was as if the projections flooded into the lobby and were quickly racing up towards them as they entered the stairwell and headed to the roof. The noise was overwhelming, thousands of stomping feet, the crackle of radios and thunder of voices shouting orders and coming after them. Arthur knew that if they were caught, they wouldn't be able to leave...  
Eames knew it too as he held him tightly as they both reached the roof. The rain poured and overhead, a helicopter appeared, the spotlight shooting down on them as they heard a thunderous voice through a loud speaker telling them not to move. Eames looked at Arthur and they knew they had to make it to the ledge before the police stopped them, before the Batman stopped them.   
They ran to the other side, the spotlight on them, the voice commanding them to stop, warning shots missing them by inches and Arthur saw the shadows move as they reached the ledge. They stepped up at the same time as the loud, hard voice of the Batman rang out behind them.  
"Detective! Don't do this!"  
Arthur glanced back seeing the Batman, a dark figure standing in the middle of the spotlight from the helicopter. He only clasped Eames' hand harder as they both fell forward. Batman raced towards them, determined to stop them and Arthur watched the sidewalk race closer to them.   
He only closed his eyes and held his breath.

He gasped as he sat up, his eyes wide as he tried to focus, his mind still wild. He blinked a few times, still feeling the impact of crashing to reality. He turned and saw Eames beside him, waking up calmly and he realized they were home. In the apartment they shared, on the floor, on top of the autumn colored blanket that had stood out so firmly in his dreams.  
"We're...home."  
Eames sat up with him, slowly pulling the canula from his wrist as he rubbed his eyes.  
"It was like we were asleep for years..."  
Arthur did the same and for a moment, the rising fear of what he had just dreamed came to mind. But he looked at Eames and saw it was his Eames...not some monster and he couldn't stop himself from turning and throwing his arms around him, both of them falling back. Eames let him, neither one said a word, their entire beings just reeling from limbo, their minds slowly emerging from the fog.   
"Let's clean up...then dinner?"  
Arthur nodded as he slowly pulled away and turned his attention to the PASIV, taking care to put away the tubing and minding all the little mechanisms. He brought his hand up to his eye in the middle, rubbing it cautiously as he then laughed a little, mostly to himself but Eames heard.  
"I just...I feel like most of it is forgotten now. But I still feel scared."  
Eames understood and he nodded as he put his hand on his shoulder, a comforting gesture which Arthur appreciated, especially after not knowing who he was for so long. He felt Eames lean over and kiss his temple as he slowly got up and headed to the kitchen, giving Arthur time.   
He only took a moment, putting the machine away and rolling his die just once and then went to join Eames.   
He didn't stress the fragments of dreams he could remember and what he did, he wanted to forget.


End file.
